My Place is the Space between Me and You
by disquietservitude
Summary: Charles is a misfit and well aware of it. Piercings, outdoors interrupted study session, angst. Who can ask for anything more?


_(Disclaimer: I do not own said characters or series, credit goes entirely to the lovely and talented Nuu and Cloverx_

_Author's note: For Zannismile, for being so amazing, I want to make you proud of me! Sorry this probably wasn't what you had in mind for your prompt cupcake (guilty), I promise to make the next one funny. First attempt at an entry for the official Honeydew Syndrome contest, falling under the sub-category of the Radiohead Song, Creep.)_

"Hello Charles. Come and play with us. Come and play with us, Charles."

I don't have to look up to know it's him. I don't have to hear those words, still enough to give me the shivers when stated in a lilting falsetto, after he forced me to watch The Shining with him at 12:45am. Twice. I don't like thriller movies. I especially don't like creepy little kids with black hole staring eyes and Lolita-esque dresses in thriller movies. So why did I watch The Shining _twice_ at oh-dark-thirty, if it was just guaranteed to give me nightmares? I don't have to look up to know he's grinning at me.

I don't have to. I don't have to.

I look up, sliding a finger between the leaves of my book, marking my place as I close it around my hand. It's not the words that tip me off that it's Jay. It's not the fake feminine adolescent voice.

It's the way he says my name. It's the heat I feel at the back of my burning neck, every time he comes near me. It's the tingling skin of my upper arms; it's my fingers curling in on my palms when he gets close. Fingers that have read and memorized that silky skin in a night of drunken passion neither of us has ever mentioned. Fingers that itch to reread the brail of my longing for him.

I used to look away in the beginning. I couldn't look him in the eye. Now I can't imagine _not_ looking into that infinite blue, seeing myself reflected there. It's the only time I ever feel real, solid and self aware and _seen_. Now I can't help but look. I want him to see me. Dammit, if I'm overlooked for the rest of my life I'm pretty much okay with that, as long as not by him. As long as he sees me.

My elbows scrape against the bark of the tree as I stand, the cool shadow from the leaves overhead sliding smooth and gray over my body, keeping me in darkness, keeping me in grace.

He's standing in the sun, white light bathing his bare arms and kissing them a soft golden tan. He's like an angel, his two toned hair curling loose and soft along one shoulder, pinned back from his ears by a series of barrettes and hairpins with tiny black and red metal skulls marching along their length. Earrings sharp and harsh looking against the perfect curve of his ear march down the cartilage militantly, taunting me. Black plastic dot, black plastic dot, tiny silver ladybug, simple thin silver hoop. I've always had a thing for piercings. My eyes narrow and focus on the ladybug… I want to tongue it. Lick it to life, watch it flick its wings open and fly away on a light breeze.

I can't stop my arm from raising and reaching out; I can't stop my fingertips from grazing those hairpins, brushing over the edge of his ear. His skin is warm, his hair is warm. His eyes dilate slightly when I touch him, but he doesn't move back. He doesn't push my hand away. He knows from the way I sucked and bit at his ears that one _perfect_ night that I'm fascinated with his piercings. I know from the way he moaned and pulsed his hips back against me that he liked it.

"These don't seem your style."

I'm proud of myself. That cool, sarcastic bite to my words. That disinterested, negligent tone to my voice. Years of sheltering myself behind these walls of spiky resistance have paid off, and not a hint of the vulnerability and aching longing I feel roil and toss in my gut leaks out. He raises a hand, fingering the skull barrettes, smiling lopsidedly. I want to fall to my knees before him. I want to raise my hands in supplication, I want to worship his body with tongue and hands and lips and teeth. I want to gaze at this floating Midas, touching everything around him golden with his smile and touch and husky laughter.

My mouth curls up in its frozen smirk, trained to fall into lines of sardonic wit. A reflex. Not my true self… and somehow I know he sees beyond it. Somehow he knows I'm not laughing at him, somehow he sees past my barriers. He sees me stripped raw and naked before him, and where once I was afraid now instead I turn and twist in glory before him. He sees me. He sees beyond my sarcasm, my self-loathing, my insecurities, my flaws. When he looks at me… I feel whole. I should feel disgusted with my own thoughts. Somehow I can't manage to find it in me.

"Man, don't I know it. Metis got them as a free gift for shopping at the-place-that-shall-not-be-named, but he didn't want 'em so he passed them along to me. Who'm I to pass up free hair accessories?"

Jay's mouth parted on perfect teeth, those lush lips quirking up, eyes lighting with amusement at our mutual friends idiocy. As if Metis really fools anyone into thinking he doesn't shop at Hot Topic.

"So c'mon my man, stop being such a loner and come over and join us."

He blinks slowly at me, and I realize my hand is still in his hair, thumb and forefinger rubbing strands of black dyed bangs between them gently. Starting slightly I let go, taking a step back. Jay is the only one who affects me like this. Jay is the only one who makes me lose my cool. It's both intriguing and frightening, and I can read in his eyes that he feels the same way. He likes to tease me and he hates to tease me. He likes the feeling of power he gets when I squirm for him, but he hates making me uncomfortable. The boy's too nice for his own good. He always stops just close enough to the edge to make me shake, but not close enough to make me snap. I can't figure out if he does it on purpose, or if he's as oblivious to his influence on me as May is to Josh.

Speaking of the emo little spaz, I leaned around Jay to get a good look at him, across the park making snarky little comments at Josh and Erik playing Frisbee, then squawking and stumbling over himself in his haste to get away from his vengeful jock boyfriend.

"That depends. Do I have to participate in the _group activity_?"

That extra little bit of bitchiness I injected in those last two words? Oh yeah, you can't get quality like that from just _any_ smartass.

"I promise not to make you play with the big kids."

"If I find myself spouting sports analogies and reaching for a neon colored drink packed full of electrolytes, that little incident with May and the fetal pig dissection debacle will seem like a cakewalk compared to what I'll do to you."

I can't help but smile at the horrified look on Jay's face as his hands fly to his hair, clutching at the thick tumbling locks.

"Ugh… don't remind me. It took fucking forever to get that gallbladder bile out of my hair!"

"Whatever. You secretly liked those extra hours in lab."

"Are you kidding? I couldn't stand Biology! I had to skip the day we observed those whelks in water, just thinking about it made me nauseous."

"Right, you made me do the project by myself. Jerk."

I smirk at him, shaking my head. Blond wisps of hair shimmy along the sides of my jaw, my eyes slitting half closed.

"I thought it was interesting."

"You would. You like those creepy little water snails."

"Hey, don't knock the whelks."

I follow him across the grass, shading my eyes with one hand. Much as I like being outdoors and in the sun, walking next to Jay somehow makes everything around me seem hotter, brighter, more focused. It's almost overwhelming. Jay leaves my side, the space between our bodies lengthening and thickening with every step he takes towards the rest of the group, filled to the brim with all the things I long to say but can't. I want to take his head in my hands and turn it back to me, I want him to notice when I'm not around. The sun glances off his hair, caressing his bare arms and his skin makes me want to cry. Everything around him is golden and beautiful; he floats like a white down feather in it, delicate and perfect.

He's so fucking special. I wish I was special.

I break into the group of friends like an unwanted wave, a dark blur on a sparkling bubble. My fingers grip the book in my hand, nodding awkwardly to Josh. He avoids my eyes like I'm the antichrist, and I feel my throat tightening up. Doesn't matter, if he wasn't dating my best friend I know I wouldn't even pop up on his awareness radar. Guys like me are never noticed by guys like him. Guys like me are never noticed, period.

I look at them, the golden boy and the dark little emo. Metis has a pair of sunglasses shoved up on the top of his dark bed head, sporting a tight long sleeve gray and black striped shirt even in this weather. Josh has kicked off his flip flops and is running around in the grass barefoot, leaping like it's his last chance in a dog show to catch the winning Frisbee, sometimes even doing a little flip in midair. Erik's long legs make him the perfect partner for Josh's shows of athleticism, and he rarely misses a toss, loose unbuttoned shirt floating around his torso as he runs. I snicker as Metis makes a general nuisance of himself, sometimes catching the Frisbee mid-fly on it's way to Josh, then unsuccessfully trying to outrun him in his black high tops. He complains bitterly about the heat, about the lack of ice cream vendors in this park, about Josh's inattention towards his boyfriend. Josh tackles him to the ground and wrestles the Frisbee away from the squirming May, and really that was the whole point, wasn't it? Josh has him pinned down and is making dopey faces of apology and grinning resigned affection, while May is still whining and pouting petulantly beneath him. I sigh, reaching into my back pocket and fishing out the juice box I had been saving for him, knowing he would probably be getting grumpy and irritated about midday. Holding it up I gave a piercing whistle through my teeth, and Metis perked up, head snapping towards me like a puppy that's just heard the rattle of kibble in its plastic bowl.

"C'mere boy." I mock, shaking the peach-pear-plum 100 Real Juice! between thumb and forefinger. Josh grunts as May shoves him off, scrambling towards me with Olympic medal enthusiasm.

"Jerk." He mutters as he approaches.

"Ah-ah-ah, is that any way to talk to your liquids producing savior?" I arch a brow at him and he rolls his eyes, huffing out an impatient breath that stirs the handful of hair falling between his eyes.

"Fine. You are Charles, you know all." He bites at me sarcastically, reaching for the juice. I keep it just out of reach, smirking.

"That's right. And don't you forget it." Taking pity on the brat, I offer the goods up.

"How'd he know to bring a snack for him?" I barely hear Josh ask Erik who is helping him up. Erik shrugs and shakes his blue head as I hand the prize to May, who happily tears off the wrapper to the straw and jabs it in with gleeful eagerness. "Creepy."

The boys go back to their game, Josh and Erik to their Frisbee, Metis to a now half-hearted effort to annoy Josh, slurping slowly at his juice box. God what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. I feel hot and itchy in my own skin, uncomfortable and small in this world of honeyed sunshine and sweaty afternoons. I look around and there is Jay, and he's looking at me.

My heart stills in my chest.

I approach him, my loafers shuffling in the grass, hair breezing back from my face in a sudden gust of L'Oreal scented wind. Sound dies out, only the movement of air past my ears, the shahhh of leaves dancing together behind me remains. The space between our bodies is shrinking, he is not looking away and I want to run run run to him, I want to fill my hands with his hair and pull him forward. I want the wind to push him into my arms; I want our lips to find their way back to each other until my mind is convinced I _do_ belong here. I want to belong here, here in this tunnel of senseless sound where there is a direct glowing path from him to me, and the separation of oxygen is slowly being compressed. I stop just a few feet away, even though my legs want to keep moving. I want to press up against him, swipe my tongue along the whorls of his ear until he moans breathily. I want to feel his hands clutching at my arms, my back, I want to gather the drops of sweat from his body like dew as he tosses and groans on the bed beneath me. He did that for me. Once. I see the knowledge of that night in his eyes now; I know he sees it in mine. He takes a step towards me, and my breath is shattered in my lungs, I can't seem to locate the ability to exhale. His lips part, something in his eyes, a word, a sentence, a phrase that my existence hinges upon. His eyes flick to the left, and he is stepping back his mouth is closing _no no no wait what no don't_-

"Metis and I are going to pick up some drinks from the car, you guys want anything?" I want to hurt Josh in that moment. When I turn my head to look at him, I don't know what my face looks like, but it's enough to make the oversized bottom feeding monkey in training take a step back. Good. I glare. At this moment in time I don't care if it will hurt Metis, I open my mouth to deliver a scathing account of Josh's failures as a son, brother, lover, friend and overall human being, but before I can I feel a hand sliding over my mouth from behind, a low voice tinged with amusement brushing past my ear.

"Play nice." Jay gave the boys a cheesy grin, and I merely stand there like a post, zenning out the murder in my heart. Killing the boyfriend of my best friend might fuck up my karma a little. "Thanks but no thanks Josh, we'll stay here. Charles still needs to finish reading the book for his report."

"Studying… isn't that what Sunday's are for?" Josh gives me an odd, sketched out look, turning his back and tugging Metis with him towards the parking lot. "We'll be back soon!"

Erik flopped down next to the pile of backpacks and jackets we had brought with us this morning, rummaging around for his ipod. Letting go of my mouth, Jay turned and put his hands on his hips, surveying the twisted apple tree we had drifted under. So. He didn't want to talk. Okay. I sat down next to Erik, flipping open my book and pretending indifference. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here…

The scrape of Jay's boots against bark sent my gaze winging up from the blurred words on the page to the scene kid pushing himself up the side of the tree. Erik didn't seem surprised, so I guessed climbing was a common occurrence for him.

"Hey Jay, careful man you'll make your new piercing bleed." My head had just been dipping back over my book when this comment made it shoot back up, my eyes snapping to the length of Jay's calf as he hoisted himself from branch to branch.

"You have a new piercing?"

Jay responded with a grunt, pushing himself up on a knarled limb with both hands, hooking a knee over a bend in the branch and swinging himself higher. Climbing, climbing, he looked like an angel ascending to heaven. I swallowed. It wasn't in his ears, I would have noticed. So it must be somewhere covered. Belly button maybe? Nipple? A prince albert? I swallow again, the back of my neck feeling hot and itchy. Closing my eyes, I could feel my breath getting short as my hands tightened on the book. Clear shining metal meeting and glinting from smooth pale flesh. The contrast between hot skin and cool metal, I want to probe the boundary between the two with laves of my tongue until he throws his head back on a low gasp, his hair spraying out in a lash of silk and golden-black color. I want to control his body; I want to make it sing for me, I want to know I can make him moan like no one else can.

When I look down at my hands they are trembling. Pushing up off the ground I am moving running the grass getting higher and higher and then my feet are thudding against hard packed dirt, the coolness of the shaded path through the trees and bushes covering me completely. I am running before I'm aware of standing, the startled voices of Jay and Erik behind me but I can't stop.

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul. I want all those things that will make him look at me with longing in his eyes, that will make me seem special and unique, I want to be that floating feather in his beautiful world, tangling in infinitesimal swirls with him. A hand grazes my elbow, my lungs are burning and when I turn my head to look at him his eyes are round and concerned in his face, his mouth parted on my name. It's my name. The sound of my name on his lips is what does it. Twisting my body I grab his upper arms, yanking him forward even as the momentum of our racing bodies sends me spinning back into the solid embrace of an oak tree. I groan low as the impact drives the breath from my body but I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control. I can't stand how he looks at other people; I want him to look only at me. I want him to notice when I'm not around, I want to be special to him, like he is to me. Using my elbows to push up off the smooth bark I reverse our positions, pressing Jay in against the tree and tightening my grip on his arms as my mouth clashes down on top of his. His eyes are shocked and stunned, either by the pain of landing or the surprise of my teeth digging into his lower lip with a growl, followed by the smooth sweep of my tongue.

I don't care if it hurts in that instance. All I care about is possessing him, shoving him up against the tree, one knee pressing in between his legs, my hip parting his thighs. His fingers are plucking at the back of my shirt, he is struggling like a butterfly pinned up off the ground. His mouth is giving and receiving, lips sliding open like the last gates before heaven, tongue urging mine on even as he pushes at my shoulders. He is hot moaning contradiction, gasping low in his throat with pleasure as I bite sharply into the base of his neck, the mewls trapped strangled in his mouth begging for more, the hardness against my thigh pleading for a savage return to ecstasy, but his hands are still tugging insistently at my shirt, my hair, hard enough to make my eyes water as he tries to yank my lips and tongue and teeth off him. He wants me. I can feel it in the fine trembling of his slender limbs, in the answering voracity of his mouth on mine, but he is uncertain. He still tries to shove me away, even as my name spills from those now-swollen lush lips in a broken groan.

"_Charles! Uhhhn…_"

My fingers are digging into the bark on either side of his arching body, my tongue is playing out intricate swirls and dips over his ear, following the whorls and ridges of flesh while my teeth capture the metal and tug gently. My fingers itch to shove his shirt up, sweep over all that vulnerable skin and play it with a dexterity to make him weep. I can't let go of the tree trunk. If I let go, I may lose my grip on reality, the tenuous control I still have over my surging rocking body. I may just float away. Jay is panting something in my ear, his fingernails are digging into the meaty part of the back of my shoulders, he is thrashing his head from side to side and whimpering and I want to tell him it'll all be okay, I want to tell him how precious he is to me. I tongue the silver ladybug piercing lovingly, the ragged edge of his breathing sending my pulse rocketing hot and hard and sweet into my mouth like candy. I don't ever want to let him go.

A rough hand claps down on my shoulder, and I am being thrown bodily backwards. Déjà vu rips through me as I look up from the ground to Josh's angry face, and May's astonished shamed blush that always makes his freckles stand out in stark relief. I've landed with my arm half in, half out of a clump of thorned bushes, and pain ripples its way up my arm in a sharp stab, before residing back into a dull throbbing. Jay has sagged against the tree, a trembling wrist pressed to his mouth, his eyes impossibly large behind those silky, disheveled bangs.

"What the _fuck_ Charles?!" Josh is yelling at me but all I can seem to concentrate on is Jay's face, on the smear of blood across his thumb where he has wiped his lower lip. I hadn't realized I had bitten him hard enough to bleed, is the only thought penetrating the foggy haze of my mind. I feel numb, watching with a detached disinterest, as May struggles with his boyfriend, protesting a show of manly might to teach me a lesson.

"You fucking creep, what the hell do you think you're doing? Didn't you see him pushing at you?? Jesus, just leave him alone will you?!" Turning his back on me, Josh grabs Jay's elbow in one hand and May's in the other, yanking them stumbling and tripping along the path back towards our stuff. Metis is yanking at his arm half-heartedly and threatening the big lug with everything in his arsenal, but Jay is silent, looking back at me as they scuffle along the path. I can't read the look in his eyes, but whatever it is makes me feel even more distanced from my senses, my mouth going numb, my hands going cold. Accusing? Sad? Apologetic? I can't tell. I want to go to him. I want to run after them, wrap my arms around Jay's waist and submerge myself in the flittering forgiveness of his smile; I want to tell him I belong by his side. I want to believe it.

But I can't. I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. I slump to my knees, hair hanging in my eyes and hiding me from the world as blood runs down my arm and tears trace down my cheeks. The shadows hide me from passerby's chattering and gossiping; their laughter seems to mock me from their place in the light. I feel completely alienated from my body, leaning up against an uncaring tree in the shadows of a park. I don't belong in me, and I don't belong with you, Jay. My place is the space between me and you. That's the only place I fit.


End file.
